


For Lack of a Better Word

by OwlEspresso



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 12:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlEspresso/pseuds/OwlEspresso
Summary: Regardless of what this relationship is, you know that it’s pretty fucking good.





	For Lack of a Better Word

**Author's Note:**

> My writing blog is [HERE](https://owlespresso.tumblr.com/).

July evenings mean leaving the porch door open and listening to the babble of the brook behind your small cottage. Beyond the worn wooden fence in your backyard lays miles and miles of forest. The chirping of cardinals, the distant yips of foxes, and the meowing of stray cats is the regular soundtrack to your life. 

Your hand idly lays on the handle of the skillet while the eggs sizzle, cooking to perfection. The hazy heat is blocked by the rumbling of the air conditioner, keeping you cool. You idly glance at the clock, standing in your old kitchen. Your tiled floor is cool on your bare feet.

You’re in the middle of sliding the eggs onto the when the screen door clacks against the wall. Your entire body jolts, eyes zooming over to the entrance. A familiar, ginger-haired man peeks inside, a wry grin on his face.

“Leaving the door open for the rift-raft, I see.” Gaius drawls and steps inside, kicking his boots off. He only places them neatly against the wall when you glare at him.

“What’s up?” You hum idly as he shuts the door, quieting the babbling brook, twisting the lock. The area you live in is relatively crime-free, and you’re on good terms with most of the people here, but you know he doesn’t like leaving doors open at night. You’ve never asked why, but you can guess that it stems from the poverty-ridden area where he lived during his childhood. You can’t imagine that he’d want to delve into the deepest, darkest memories of his childhood. He settles next to you, hands perched on the counter, and peers onto your plate.

“Do you still have the bread I made the other day?” His shoulder butts into your own and he presses a kiss against your temple. Your cheeks grow warm at the affection, a hand coming up to twine in your hair, moving your head closer to him.

“Mhm,” You nod. “In the freezer.”

“Thaaanks,” He turns towards the fridge, twirling on his heel in a way that’s more flamboyant than it needs to be. You feel the cool air on your back as he opens the door, hauling out what’s left of the loaf and dropping it on the counter. “I can stay here tonight, right?” There’s a unique subtlety to your relationship, in the way that there have never been any confessions. Only gestures of affection, only long, overnight stays. He grabs a plate from the cabinet above the counter and places the bread on it, shoving it in the microwave while you grab a fork and start to eat your eggs.

“Sure. That’s fine.” You hum. His arm reaches around your waist, his head ducks, face nestling in the crook of your neck. A small smile curls onto your face at the intimacy of the gesture. You may not know what you are to each other, may not be able to put a label on it, but there’s a slow sense of comfort that ebbs over you whenever he embraces you like this, a feeling that transcends a name or a word.

Regardless of what this relationship is, you know that it’s pretty fucking good.


End file.
